Anna's Attic

is a novel about a young girl who tries to break away from her rich parents to live her own life. She moves into her new home but little does she know there is something sinister lurking in the attic. A graphic tale of mental and physical torture, murder and fear.

Note : I do NOT own the rights to the image used for the cover picture. All rights are reserved by the owner. I got the Picture from Google.
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Chapters:

In the darkness,
Michael was very busy dressing the rag-doll in Anna's clothing.
He had a whole collection of these, he had purchased them some
months before his retreat into the darkness. He had made the trip
to retrieve them between home owners, he needed them for his
work.They were about five feet tall, he sometimes found that
frustrating if his 'interest' was very tall, and they had no
face. Just blank canvas.

He pinned the
lock of hair he had taken from Anna to the head of the doll. It
didn't give the resemblance of a head of hair, it was only a
small lock after all, but it told what colour her hair was. Plus
it was her real hair. It added part of her to the lifeless doll.
He also inserted the patch of blood soaked cotton into the stolen
panties and placed them on the doll.

When
he had finished dressing the doll, he sat it at the front of the
pile of dressed dolls heaped up on the floor. He liked to
remember his victims, and the dolls were perfect for that. Each
one had a lock of hair, a blood sample, and the woman's own
clothes.He had scrawled their names on the back of the dolls
too.

He
was fond of them, and often pulled them out and lined them up to
lose himself in the memories. The pile was unstable, and in order
to help prevent an avalanche of dolls, he'd had to place one off
the pile, and it lay just next to the mountain, though still in
contact with it.

There were thirty
Dolls in the pile, and the one he had to separate made
thirty-two. It lay on its side, dressed in torn clothing, and
attached to a rope hanging from her stomach, was a baby doll. The
doll was naked, bloody and really, really small. That woman had
been his favourite, Melanie was the name scrawled on this dolls
back. Dearest Melanie had really fought him, unaware she was only
fuelling his fire.

Now there was a
new addition, Anna's doll. He would have preferred to take the
clothes she would wear when he took her,but the faded jeans and
sunshine yellow t-shirt he had taken were fine, and stealing them
had helped scare her more.

He propped up her
doll, making sure she was sitting facing him. He sat close enough
to smell her clothes, all of them worn, all of them smelling of
her, and began to pleasure himself.

The time was
coming soon. Soon he wouldn't be reduced to masturbating in the
darkness with a doll for company. As he was starting to climb the
ladder to his climax he heard a familiar hum. He closed his eyes,
but continued his action. Blinding light flashed over his eyelids
and the voice was soft, and somehow deadly.

'I suggest you
stop that in my presence.' It whispered. Michael's eyes snapped
open and scanned the darkness. Seeing nothing, he
growled.

'I am in no-one's
presence!' he spat, furious at the interruption of his
ritual.

All at once the
mountain of dolls toppled and the temperature dropped. He let go
of himself as he scrambled backward, away from the toppled dolls.
He felt ice cold fingers slip around his manhood, too cold, the
sensation made him cry out in pain and fear.

'OK! OK!' He
gasped, grunting with effort as he tugged up his
trousers.

For the first
time he was afraid. He had been up here alone for twenty years,
and nothing like this had ever happened before. He sensed the
urgency of the voice today, and wanted to cower in a corner until
it had passed. He could never get away from it though, trying to
hide was pointless. He had to hear what the voice had to
say.

'It has to be
soon, I can't wait much longer.' came a soft purr from the
darkness. Michael got his senses back then.

'But I'm not
ready, it takes time, I need time!' he whispered staring
around.

'Time is the one
thing you do not have. I cannot give you any more time. It needs
to be done by the end of the week. It must be different this
time.' The voice was insistent.

Michael was
furious. It couldn't be different, it had to be the way it always
was. He couldn't do it otherwise.

'Don't even think
about questioning me Michael. I have looked after you, made sure
you have had the things you need all these years. That pile of
disgusting tributes was considerably smaller before I moved you
up here. I can end your miserable existence in a second if you
get in my way. The girl needs to live. You can do anything else
you want, but she needs to live. I need her alive.' The voice
faded out, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.

He was angry,
angry because he didn't even know who the voice belonged to. He
was angry because for the first time in his life he was not in
control, didn't know the plan. On top of this he was frustrated
and now he would have no time to finish what he started. His
erection had gone, but it was still sending throbbing waves of
ice cold pain through his entire body.

All he knew, was
he would have to do what was required of him, this time. He swore
this would be the last time anyone or anything prevented him from
doing his own work.

Michael started
to wonder exactly what his part in this was, he was beginning to
suspect the voice had never cared about him, and he was less than
pleased at the thought of being used as a tool. He would do the
job and run. Run and never look back.

Michael would
have to move faster, his anger would have to fuel this fire, he
would have to direct it towards the job at hand. He began to
plan.